***Ronin***
A quick glance around the room shows me I have everything under control. Three dead guys are sprawled across the floor. “Mission accomplished,” I hum in contentment and wipe my blade clean on the corpse in front of me.
It only took me, what? I check my watch. Nice, only two and a half minutes to slice a few necks. I didn’t expect three guys, though. The order clearly stated ‘Room 314, two guys are waiting to get paid so they expect someone to come up to their hotel room to bring their money’. Fuck it. I don’t need more details than that, room number is correct, two guys who fit the description I got are dead, the plus one is collateral damage. As I stated…mission accomplished.
There’s some stumbling followed by a “fucking asshole,” muttered by a female voice sliding through the air.
Holy shit. How the fuck did I miss checking if the bathroom is secure? Spinning around, I watch how a redhead literally tumbles out of the bathroom. She pushes herself off the floor as best as she can because her hands and feet are bound with zip ties. The chick struggles to pull down her very short, tight, fire engine red skirt.
A hard thing to do because that thing is painted on her hips, and damn…this chick has some perfect curves. Picture perfect, well at least from my point of view…she’s bent over, showing off her amazing rack, hopping on those bound feet with her red hair in a short bob bouncing around her face.
“I am so gonna kill.”
“Kill who, Fire Bunny?” I question.
There’s a high-pitched yelp before she jumps right at me, two tied fists trying to hit my nose. Good thing she’s tiny as fuck and with one twist, I’ve got her lush ass pressing against my cock while one of my hands is locked around her wrist, the fingers from my other one are in a tight grip around her neck.
She keeps struggling until my lips are right next to her ear. “Don’t. Unless you want to end up on that pile over there.”
I feel her head turn before her body freezes in my grip.
That’s right, take a good fucking look who you’re dealing with...I’m a killer. “So let me ask again...Kill who, Fire Bunny?”
The woman tries to give me a head-butt. What the actual fuck? I tighten my hold on her but the tiny devil is fighting like hell and slips out of my grip with all her worming around. With her legs bound at her feet, she tumbles forward and smacks straight into a wall, out cold on the floor the next instant.
My head tips back and I bark out my laughter. I can’t fucking help it, this Fire Bunny is damn hilarious. I wonder who she is and how she ended up bound in this guy’s hotel room. By the way she was cursing and bound, she sure as fuck wasn’t here of her own free will.
I can’t just leave her here, she’s seen me. The most logical thing would be to add her to the pile of bodies. I might be a killer but something about her makes me want to protect her instead of end her. And I have to admit, she did put up a good fight.
Choice made. I sling her over my shoulder and grab the bottle of lighter fluid I took with me. I squirt enough over the bodies, light a match and throw it down, before I get the fuck out of here.
I feel like an idiot staring at my bike while holding on to a lifeless body. How the fuck can I bring this one with me? An idea comes to mind and I make her sag in my arms. Stepping into the open space of her legs, I hoist her up and turn her onto my back, throwing her arms over my head while shoving one of my arms through too so she doesn’t strangle me if she wakes up. I step onto my bike and grab the handlebars. The chick, who’s still out cold, is hanging in place. Let’s hope she stays that way.
The whole ride over to the clubhouse is smooth sailing with the chick still in place. I park right next to a row of bikes and step off. I sling her arms off me and let her slide down to the ground. Makes it easier for me to step out from between her legs.
She still doesn’t fucking move and this puts me somewhat on edge. I don’t know why, because shit would be easier if the witness in question was dead. Because I seriously don’t need a chick who can pinpoint me being at the scene of a murder. Make that a triple murder scene.
Yet there’s something about her that makes me want her. Not just breathing, but fucking want, need; as in full blown lust. Could be because I’m staring at her lying on the ground, feet bound, legs fallen open. No. Damn. Underwear. Sweet as fuck looking cunt taunting me in full glory.
“You brought a new sex kitten to play with?” I recognize Romeo’s voice from behind me.
I swoop the woman off the ground. “Fuck off, Romeo. Go find your own, this one is for me to play with.”
“So...how about two hours from now? I could jerk off while you’re playing to kill some time, and then I could have your seconds. I don’t mind, it’s a redhead. They’re always worth the ride. Shit, she’s got a great ass, those tits, yum.” Romeo’s got a big grin on his face while he stares at the woman I’m holding.
That is until his gaze slides up and meets mine. Bad choice of words, fucker. I admit, we share cunts that want to bounce on a cock, any cock for that matter. But this one right here? Mine. I have no clue who she is or what she was doing there when she literally stumbled into the job I was doing, but her ass is mine now.
Romeo seems to catch my drift and doesn’t utter one single word. He nods and steps back, holding the door to the clubhouse open so I can step inside.
I walk a straight line to my room. Once inside, I place the woman on the couch. Not that I have another option due to the fact that the U-shaped couch swallows the whole space, it’s the only damn thing in the room. Facing one big ass TV. That’s all a guy like me needs.
For real, I don’t have a bed or whatever. I’ve got a bathroom with a closet where I keep my clothes and shit. I come in here for some peace and quiet. Movie time, or some shuteye I can get on my nice, large as fuck couch. I grab my knife and cut off her restraints. That’s when I see her eyes flutter and she starts to groan and move slightly.
“Easy now,” I warn her, the knife still in my hand. I hold both my hands up, palms facing her. “You’re still breathing.”
“For now,” she mutters and touches her face.
The corner of my mouth twitches when she winces. She’s got one hell of a shiner from running into that wall earlier.
“Sure, make fun of the fat redhead. Kill me now, will ya?” She tries to roll her eyes but fails because I can tell she’s hurting.
“If you don’t want your ass to be on fire, I would keep your damn mouth shut, fucking bad-mouthing yourself like that,” I tell her through gritted teeth.
“Trying to boost my self-confidence by threatening to torture me? Wow. Or do you follow some kind of protocol? Torture before killing…why didn’t I think of that?” She narrows her eyes and continues her rant. “You mind handing me the knife so I can decorate your chest with it? Because I think you need an opening to give all the goodness in your heart a better chance to get out, seeing you have a hard time making it come out the correct way.”
Fuck. I’m a breath away from handing it over because she’s got a silk voice that tugs my cock with every word. Not to mention there’s no damn fear in her eyes. And let me tell you, with three large scars running down the left side of my face, I’m not a pretty motherfucker girls gape at in awe.
Well, maybe if I let my long dark hair down so one side is covered. That’s why I always have it tied back so the first look they give me is always fear mingled with horror and disgust. Every cunt turns away and never looks me straight in the eye. This one, though? She faces me head on as if she’s good with the fact that every breath could be her last one.
“Mind bending over so my cock can decorate your ass? Because for fucking sure it would look much nicer knocking down your back door, filling you up, than to be kept zipped up in my pants.” I raise an eyebrow as I wait for her response.
Damn entertaining.
It’s like a damn poker game because she raises two eyebrows in return, before she says, “You have a weird fascination with my ass.”
I bark out my laughter but it’s cut short because she lunges for my hand that’s holding the knife. Damn feisty cunt.
My fingers wrap around her neck and she gasps for her next breath. That’s fucking right, I’m not playing a game here. In one swing I’ve got my knife lodged into the wall in front of me. I make her turn, her knees dig into the couch while I bury my fist in her hair.
Tilting her head up, I let her know, “See that? I have no problem shoving it inside you. The pile of bodies back in the room where we first met should also be a reminder. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck is wrong with me? You’re the one warning me not to bad-mouth myself and telling me you want to fuck my ass. But you’re asking what’s wrong with me?” She fucking snorts.
Wrong choice of words, cunt, wrong fucking words.